


A Lifetime of Laughter

by the_problem_with_stardust



Series: Walking the Long Road [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - The Proposal Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Monster of the Week, POV Alternating, POV Derek, POV Stiles, Rating May Change, Ring shopping, Sharing a Bed, Stiles Stilinski's Name is Mieczysław, kinda proposal au, lots of tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-11-28 09:03:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11414625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_problem_with_stardust/pseuds/the_problem_with_stardust
Summary: “Are you serious? Who in their right mind would marry me?”“Well, you’re – you know – you.”“Thanks. That clears everything up.”The Beacon Hills version of a Proposal AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> General disclaimer: I don’t own anything, but please, please, please don’t post my work anywhere without my permission.
> 
> Not Beta'd, so feel free to point out any glaring errors in the comments.

“Why are you still here.”

Stiles started so hard he almost fell off the couch. Damn werewolves trying to scare him to death before he turned twenty.

“Hello to you too, Sourwolf.”

Cora, the traitor, snorted from the arm chair nearby. She probably heard the Camaro before it even reached the parking lot.

There was a rustle of plastic bags against the counter. Derek must've gone grocery shopping again. Which was good because they were almost out of Doritos. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Questions have inflection. That was not a question.”

Derek moved around the couch and into Stiles’ line of sight. “Why. Are. You. Still. Here.”

“Still not a question.”

Stiles smirked at the low warning growl. His ability to get under a person’s skin could be a superpower. And Derek was so easy to rile up.

“Could you two cut it out? Some of us are actually trying to watch the show.”

Derek’s gaze flicked toward his sister, almost as if he’d forgotten she was in the room. Which Stiles might have forgotten too. Oops.

Smirking through the awkward moment, Stiles patted the couch next to him. Because Derek Hale had actual furniture. In an actual apartment. With running water and everything.

“We’re watching Gilligan’s Island. Sit down and stay awhile, big guy.”

On any other day, Derek would take the offer and curl up next to Stiles on the couch. They’d come a long way since they met, to the point where Stiles would probably consider the grumpy werewolf his best friend after Scott. But something had Derek on edge, focused on a noise or scent outside the range of human senses. If it wasn’t for the daily shit show that was their lives, Stiles might have made a dog joke. Instead, he and Cora watched warily as their Alpha turned to the door.

After a moment, the doorbell chimed. Stiles wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Derek Hale living in a swanky apartment complete with a doorbell that had fancy programmable gong noises.

Shifting to the edge of his seat, he wrapped one hand around the grip of the baseball bat stashed under the couch and tried to plan the easiest way to reach the gun hidden in one of the kitchen cabinets. Cora paused the TV, eyes glowing despite the brightly lit room.

Derek swung open the door… and the man on the other side looked like a perfectly normal middle-aged guy in an official looking suit. Stiles loosened his grip on the bat and settled in for Plan B. Eavesdropping.

“Are you Derek Hale?”

Derek’s answer was muffled, but Stiles assumed it was an affirmative. He glanced over at Cora, who sat rigid in her seat, hands clenched and resting on her thighs.

“Hello Mr. Hale, I’m Agent Weston. We’ve been looking for you.”

Stiles was up and out of his seat immediately, Cora close behind. He thought about grabbing the gun, but decided that two werewolves and an angry human were probably a match for this guy.

Derek was staring at the man, face blank, but Stiles could read the apprehension in his tight shoulders and flexing fingers. He squeezed next to Derek in the doorway, resting a hand between his shoulder blades. The Alpha tensed at the contact, then relaxed into Stiles’ side.

“What can we help you with today?” Stiles asked, directing a sharp smile at the agent.

The man swallowed, eyes darting behind them to where Cora was lurking. Watching their backs. “Your friend Mr. Hale has been living off the grid for the past few years. We weren’t able to locate him until earlier this month when he made a substantial purchase.”

The apartment. Derek stiffened underneath Stiles’ palm. He absently started to trace the triskelion through the thin cotton of Derek’s shirt, trying to keep him grounded. It took a second for the muscles to loosen under his administrations, but Stiles still counted it as a win.

“I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand why you were looking for him in the first place.”

“Mr. Hale, this may be something you wish to discuss in private…” The agent trailed off.

Stiles’ fingers paused and he started to pull away so he could read Derek’s face more easily. Instead, Derek looped an arm around his waist, pinning him back against his side.

“No. They stay.”

An annoyed look settled across the agent’s face. “Well then. As I am sure you know, Mr. Hale, you were born in Canada.”

Derek hummed in confirmation, but that was definitely news to Stiles. He filed the tidbit away with the few other facts he knew about his Alpha.

“We have you registered as a Canadian citizen. Which means you can’t stay here.”

“Woah, hold up.” Stiles barely managed to refrain from flailing out both arms to illustrate the point. “Derek’s entire family had US citizenship.

“Ah, yes. Well it would appear that some records were lost.”

“Shouldn’t that be your people’s problem? If you were the ones who lost the records?”

“Unfortunately, you will have to leave the country until we figure this mess out.”

“Absolutely not.” Stiles dropped the hand from Derek’s back so he could push in front of him, placing himself between the agent and Derek.

“It will only be for a short while, until the paperwork gets sorted.”

“Then why can’t he stay here, in his home?”

“He cannot stay on US soil without the proper papers.”

“Sounds like a load of bullshit.” Cora drawled and Stiles almost laughed. After all, Cora was a pro at moving between countries undetected.

“Cora…” The warning was the first word Derek offered since more or less ordering the two of them to stay.

Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Give me twenty-four hours to consult with some people before you drag him off to Canada, capiche?”

“Of course, Mr…?” The agent stared at him significantly, as if to convey that Stiles had hijacked the entire conversation. Which he had. It was a gift.

“Stilinski.”

Understanding showed on the agent’s otherwise impassive face. “As in the Sheriff?”

Stiles smirked. “Yes, sir.” Apparently the guy had already met his pops.

“Well, I will be in touch tomorrow Mr. Hale. I really am sorry about all of this.”

Stiles scoffed derisively, but Derek still managed to offer a polite: “We’ll talk to you then.” 

They waited until the door clicked closed before moving.

Cora jumped immediately into planning mode. If Stiles wasn’t so hung up on another, broodier Hale, he might have fallen in love with her.

“I still have contacts with the people who resurrected me. They owe me favors. I should be able to get papers for Derek.”

Stiles shook his head. “I dunno. The Feds are already in on this. If we somehow magically have papers, they’ll get suspicious.”

“So what? These guys are good.”

“But if the feds are suspicious, they might start looking into you. And that is bad. We don’t need them figuring out just how much shady shit goes on in Beacon Hills.”

“Then what are we going to do? Let them take him? I’m not losing my family again.”

“No. That is not going to happen. I swear it.”

Something, maybe the desperate edge to his voice, caused Cora to soften. “Okay. Keep us updated on what you find.”

Stiles snatched up his car keys, cursing himself for not carrying his laptop 24/7. He looked at Derek who had watched their whole exchange with a detached expression. “Don’t worry, Sourwolf. We’ll make sure you get to stay with your pack.”

“Where are you going?” Derek sounded so lost, Stiles wanted to hide him away somewhere and keep him safe.

But the easiest way to keep him safe was to get rid of this fed. “To do some research.”

\---

It had become habit for Derek to sit in Stiles’ favorite spot whenever he wasn’t around. He tried not to read too much into the compulsion while he thumbed through his book, eyes skimming over the words but not retaining anything. The chorus of _Hungry Like the Wolf_ pulled him out of his thoughts. He glared at the ceiling as he answered, trying to think of the last time Stiles and his phone were alone together.

“What Stiles.”

“Dammit, Derek! Again with the questions. That was not a question.”

“I will hang up on you.” It was a good thing Stiles wasn’t a werewolf because even Derek heard that lie skip in his heartbeat.

“Can I come over?”

“When did you change my ringtone?”

“Like three days ago. I’m surprised it took you this long to notice.”

Which was definitely possible. Since graduation, Stiles spent almost as much time at the apartment as at his own house. Everything was starting to smell like him. It was a problem.

Derek must have taken too long to answer because Stiles sighed. “It’s fine, I can drop by tomorrow.”

“No.”

“Seriously?”

Thinking back over their exchange, Derek amended his statement. “No I meant you can come over now.”

“Good, cuz I’m already in the parking lot.”

And that was a testament to how messed up his day had been because Derek hadn’t even registered the familiar death-rattle of the Jeep approaching. By the time he moved to open the door, Stiles was already pushing his way inside, cellphone in hand.

“I have a solution to your problem.”

Derek stepped back to avoid crowding Stiles against the door. “Why do I get the feeling there is a ‘but’ in there somewhere?”

“Because you are really not going to like it.”

Bracing himself, Derek let a little Alpha bleed into his voice. “Tell me.”

“Have you ever seen _The Proposal_?”

“Stiles.”

“Right. Of course not.” Stiles chewed his lip. Derek could smell the nerves radiating off of him before he blurted. “You could marry a citizen.”

“What?”

“I told you you weren’t going to like it.”

“Are you serious? Who in their right mind would marry _me_?”

Stiles squawked and thrashed his arms a little. “You really don’t get it do you?”

Derek raised a judgmental eyebrow.

“Well, you’re – you know – _you_.”

“Thanks. That clears everything up.”

“I mean it Derek. You are one of the best people I know.”

The scathing noise escaped his throat almost against his will. Stiles frowned.

“Come on. You always put other people before yourself. You’re brave. You’re kind. You’re funny. Sometimes. And judging by the number of books you read you’re also incredibly smart. I could go on for hours, seriously dude.”

Derek huffed. “If I’m so great, why don’t you marry me?”

Stiles remained silent for a moment, letting his skin flush furiously red. He ran a twitchy hand through his hair, “Again. I told you that you wouldn’t like it.”

“Wait.” The pieces finally connected. “This is your plan?”

Stiles shrugged, helpless.

“Your dad is going to let you marry a felon?”

The familiar scent morphed from nervousness to anger. Anger on behalf of Derek. “Stop saying that. You aren’t a felon. He never even filed the paperwork.”

And there was the last loose end that was niggling at the back of Derek’s mind. There should have been some official record of his time at the Sheriff’s station.

“And my dad was the one I ran the idea past in the first place. He agreed it wasn’t ideal but he doesn’t want to see you separated from your family again.”

“Stiles…”

“Not that it would matter what he thought anyway cuz I’m going to be twenty soon and I can make my own choices.”

“Stiles…” It took a moment for his brain to catch up. “Wait, you’re nineteen?”

The anger vanished and was replaced by embarrassment again. “I got held back.”

“Hey.” At the change in tone, Stiles looked up from where his converse were scuffing at the floor. “Thanks. For offering to do this.”

His smile had a bitter edge. “But?”

“I can’t let you throw your life away. I’m not –”

Stiles took an aggressive step forward. “Don’t you dare say you aren’t worth it.”

“But I’m –”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Derek.”

When Stiles stopped moving he was very much in Derek’s space. If it was anyone else, Derek would have felt threatened. But this was Stiles, so he let himself be maneuvered until his back was against the wall.

“Think about your pack. You are their alpha.” Stiles took one final step closer, until they were touching. “What are they supposed to do without you?”

Derek sighed in defeat, sagging into Stiles' still form. “Okay.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Well you haven’t actually asked.”

Stiles let out a strangled laugh and dropped to his knees, eyes trained on Derek’s face. “Derek Samuel Hale. Will you marry me?”

He frowned at the use of his full name. “How did you know my middle name?”

“Police report.”

Typical Stiles. “Why am I not surprised.”

“Still waiting on an answer.”

“Right.” He smirked down at the younger man. Stiles wasn’t the only one with access to personal information. “Yes, Mieczysław Stilinski. I will marry you.”

The last part of the sentence was lost in the undignified shriek Stiles made while falling backward onto his ass.

“How? How the hell did you know? Even the pronunciation is right.”

“What, don’t you think I should know my fiancé’s name?” Derek was fighting back a genuine smile.

Stiles groaned from where he was laying on the floor, eyes closed. “This isn’t real. I’m dreaming. This isn’t happening.”

Of course Cora, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica chose that moment to walk in.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Derek looked at Stiles who was still sprawled on the ground. “We’re getting married.”

The room dissolved into chaos.


	2. Chapter 2

The Sheriff was already at the kitchen table when Stiles thundered down the stairs the next morning. There were several files spread out in front of him and Stiles would recognize Derek Hale’s mugshots from across the _galaxy_ , not just from across the room. He rubbed his eyes and went to fill his coffee cup.

“Hey kiddo, I’ve got some questions for you.”

Stiles slid into the chair across from his dad. “What’s up?”

“When Agent Weston came to the loft, did he show you a badge?”

After thinking back to the interaction, Stiles was stumped. “No, he didn’t show us anything.”

“Me neither.” His dad hesitated before admitting, “I didn’t think it was strange until after he left.”

“Wait, this might all be supernatural?”

His dad sighed. “I haven’t been able to get ahold of anyone official.”

“So you think we’re getting played?” Stiles looked up from his coffee.

“I’m just saying it all seems very suspicious.”

Ever since finding out about the supernatural, his dad proved himself a valuable asset to their team. His cop instincts had gotten them out of enough scrapes to the point where Stiles firmly believed if he thought something was wrong, it was wrong.

“Okay, what are you thinking?”

“Some kind of shifter? Maybe a trickster?” His dad flipped Derek’s file shut. “I’m not familiar enough with the Bestiary.”

Stiles was already going through his mental lists, but it would be easier if he had Lydia to bounce ideas off of. “Should we still go along with the proposal idea?”

“I think it’s for the best.” Which was definitely not the answer Stiles was expecting. “We don’t want whatever it is to know that we’re onto it.”

“Okay.” It made sense. Plus having Derek for a fiancé wasn’t exactly a hardship.

His dad went back to the file.

Stiles drained the rest of his coffee in one gulp and clambered around for his shoes. “I’m going to update Derek.”

“You want breakfast first?”

“Nah, I’m gonna make him cook for me.”

“Good luck.” His dad called after him, chuckling at the idea.

Surprisingly, Derek was already in the process of making breakfast for the pack when Stiles arrived. He watched for a moment while his fake fiancé piled steaming scrambled eggs onto a plate and set it next to the stove. What a softy.

“Want to actually help with something?” Werewolf hearing was the worst.

“What, you aren’t going to provide for your future spouse?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Stiles realized that maybe they weren’t quite ready to joke about this.

Luckily Derek just rolled his eyes. “For that, you get to make the bacon.”

“No fair, I don’t have super werewolf healing.”

Derek quirked an eyebrow. “Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the things we love.”

And yeah. Stiles did love bacon. So he pulled his shirt collar up to his eyes and brandished a spatula with potholder-covered hands. Take that, bacon grease. Unfortunately Jackson chose that moment to walk past, on his way to ‘run some errands’ whatever that meant.

“Looking good, Stilinski.”

“Fuck off, Whittemore.” The shirt muffled his response.

In the end, he only burned a couple of pieces, but crispy bacon was better anyway. Derek spent the whole ordeal smirking at him as he tried to avoid the grease spatters. Too bad the end of May was too warm to wear long sleeves.

As soon as the eggs, toast, and bacon were on the table, Erica, Isaac, Cora, and Boyd appeared from upstairs. Stiles grabbed the orange juice and milk from the refrigerator, then went back for the salt and pepper. By the time he sat down at the table, everything was demolished.

“What the hell?” Stiles blinked at the empty dishes. “Control your pups, Derek!”

Erica snorted. “Don’t worry, your boo’s got you covered.”

Derek set a plate and mug in front of him. Stiles could already tell the coffee was perfect and the eggs… The eggs were fried sunny side up, the yolks still runny and perfect for dipping the toast which was just on the right side of burnt. Stiles might be in love. Scratch that, he absolutely was in love with Derek Hale.

Just as Stiles was finishing the best breakfast he’d ever eaten, Isaac yelled that he was going to Scott’s. Cora followed him out. Erica and Boyd were having ‘date day’ so they left soon after. Stiles waited to speak until he saw Derek relax.

“Is there anyone still in hearing range?”

Derek took a moment to listen before answering. “No.”

“Dad and I had an interesting talk this morning.” Stiles started piling dishes into the sink.

Derek stiffened.

“Not about you.” Stiles was quick to reassure him. “Agent Weston.”

“What about him?” Derek took over, running water into the sink, bubbles foaming up over the dirty plates.

“He doesn’t have a badge. Dad thinks he might’ve mind-whammied us into not finding that strange.” Stiles pulled a new towel from one of the cabinets.

“What does he think we should do?” Derek handed over one of the large frying pans for him to dry.

“He thinks we should go along with it until we have more information.”

“Okay.”

Stiles almost hit his head on the cabinet where he was stashing the frying pan. “Seriously?”

“Did you not want to?” Derek sounded careful. He set the clean plates and glasses in the dishwasher, which didn’t make any sense. If they were clean, why did they need to be washed again?

It took a minute to realize Derek was waiting for an answer. “Oh! No, I just thought it would take more convincing.”

Derek shrugged and turned back to washing the serving spoons. “If your dad thinks we should wait, then we will.” Derek did have a tremendous amount of respect for his dad.

Stiles finished drying the last pan. “Do you have plans for today?”

“Grocery shopping.” Derek drained the water and started wiping down the counter.

Stiles followed behind with the towel to dry “Didn’t you go yesterday?”

Derek huffed, looking up from where he was trying to scrub something sticky off the table. “There are five werewolves and you practically living in this apartment.”

Which yeah. They’d probably eaten at least two dozen eggs and an entire loaf of bread this morning. And drank all the milk and orange juice too.

“Can I drive?”

“No.”

They made it all the way to the cereal aisle before getting into a heated argument. Or at least Stiles thought it was heated.

“Don’t lie to me, Derek. Lucky Charms are the best.”

“They taste like cardboard.”

“But they have marshmallows.”

“You call those things marshmallows?”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Agent Weston appeared out of nowhere. “Mr. Stilinski, Mr. Hale.”

Now that he’d spoken with his dad, Stiles could tell there was definitely something off with this guy. He didn’t act like a fed at all. Plus he somehow found them in a crowded supermarket.

“Agent Weston.” At least Derek had his shit together and answered politely.

“Do you have your bags packed?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Stiles went into legal mode. (Which was just bullshitting stuff he’d learned from reality shows, rom coms, and Wikipedia). “We’re engaged. Derek has ninety days until we have to tie the knot. Also, both of his parents were citizens, his siblings were citizens, he shouldn’t be deported just because there was a paperwork mix-up.”

Agent Weston shot Stiles an appraising look. “I suppose you are right, Mr. Stilinski. You’ve bought Mr. Hale until the end of August to either get married or figure out what went wrong.”

Stiles almost slumped over in relief, then Weston added “As long as the engagement isn’t fake. It’s against the law to lie to the government.”

Derek set both hands on Stiles’ shoulders to keep him from punching the guy.

Weston winked. “And gentlemen? I don’t see any rings.”

\---

As soon as the man was out of sight, Derek released his hold on Stiles. For a minute he’d thought the reckless human was going to start a brawl in the supermarket.

“We should call it off.” He said, quietly.

“No, Derek.”

“There is something really wrong with this guy.” He even smelled weird, like a glamour or magic or something.

“Oh good, you picked up on it too this time.”

“I don’t want you mixed up in this.”

“Derek…” Stiles suddenly noticed all of the people watching their whispered argument. Some had the decency to pretend to go back to their shopping when he glared in their direction. Derek could hear their quiet conversations and kept his head ducked down to hide the eye flare because – of course – some asshole was recording the whole thing on his phone.

Stiles sighed. “Show’s over folks. As you were.” That sent just about everyone else scurrying away.

Derek wanted to leave, to get out of this place that still held the lingering scent of whatever the hell Agent Weston actually was. Stiles stepped into his space, fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt. He tilted his head to murmur against his ear. “Let’s finish getting our groceries. We can talk more at home.”

Derek was tense all the way back to the apartment. He couldn’t help it. Someone came up to him and a member of his pack in their territory and contested him. It was unsettling.

Between the two of them, they managed to get all of the groceries in one trip. Stiles kicked the door shut behind them and dumped his armload of bags onto the counter.

“Okay. Talk.”

“I can’t put you in danger like this.”

“Try that again.” Stiles had his arms crossed, leaning against the island.

“Whatever it is, it’s trying to subtly depose an Alpha.”

“Which means that whatever it is, it can’t take you in a fight.”

Damn, Derek hated when he was right. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and feeling decades older than he should. “But I’m still putting you in a dangerous position that you didn’t agree to.”

Stiles rolled his eyes “Can you imagine me doing anything I didn’t want to do?”

“I’m your Alpha. You may feel obligated.”

“No, Sourwolf. Being a martyr is definitely your thing. It’s more like _you_ are stuck with _me_.”

He offered Derek a shit-eating grin and started putting away groceries. As they worked, Stiles kept moving everything and rearranging his pantry.

“Why the hell do you put your pasta on a different shelf than the pasta sauce? That just doesn’t make sense.”

Derek listened to him chatter for a bit, swearing when he almost dropped a can of beans on Derek’s new hardwood floors. And finally Derek couldn’t take it anymore. “What about Lydia?”

Stiles froze, an improbable number of cans heaped in his arms. “What about her?”

“You’re in love with her.”

“Nope. Definitely not.” He somehow managed to get the cans to the pantry without dropping any. “We even tried kissing. It was like the one time I kissed Scott.”

“You kissed Scott?”

“We were in elementary school. Don’t judge me.”

Derek felt a little better, for reasons he wasn’t sure he wanted to delve into. Instead, he balled up the empty garbage bags and stuffed them under the sink. They were nice for transporting blood-soaked clothes without ruining the Camaro’s upholstery.

“So you don’t have anyone on your radar?” He straightened up in time to see Stiles cram the last bag of apples in the fridge.

The human’s scent goes melancholy. “I didn’t say that.”

Derek let the silence hang for a bit before realizing, “You never asked me about why I was born in Canada.”

“I didn’t want to pry.”

Derek scoffed, because Stiles always wanted to pry.

“There’s a massive pack in British Columbia, up near Vancouver. Mom wanted to make a treaty with them because we weren’t sure if we could trust the Dalton pack in Oregon.”

Stiles flopped on the couch. “She couldn’t have sent her second?”

“Not to this. She thought it was important enough that the Alpha had to be there.” He remembered how his mom would tell this story every year. It was enough to get him a little lost in his head.

“But did she get the treaty signed?”

Derek grinned. “Yes, she did.”

“Your mom sounds like a badass.”

“She was.” And she had put so much effort into building connections between packs. Derek was starting to think that maybe he ought to visit some of these former allies and see if the treaties still held.

He glanced over at Stiles, who was watching him with a soft expression on his face. There was still something a little strange about him, making Derek wonder if it had to do with their earlier conversation.

“Hey, Derek?” Stiles shifted closer to him.

He hummed in response.

“I just want you to know that – that I’m here if you ever want to remember them.” He looked so open and earnest that Derek felt a little broken inside.

“Thanks.” The word caught a little on the way out, but Stiles smiled like he understood. Which Derek supposed he did.

Eventually, they ate again. Derek made a colossal amount of spaghetti so the pack could eat it as leftovers for dinner when they inevitably showed up. Feeding teenagers was exhausting. The Tupperware safely in the fridge, they collapsed back on the couch with their plates to watch a movie.

When Stiles finished eating, he set his plate on the floor and sprawled across the couch, letting his head rest on Derek’s thigh. After only a few moments, his heartbeat evened out to a sleeping rhythm and Derek had to fight the urge to run his fingers through his hair.

It was almost five when Erica and Boyd exploded back into the apartment. Erica was talking a mile a minute about how she beat the Beacon Hill’s Family Put-put record. Stiles jerked awake, looking disoriented and Derek had to catch him before he fell off the couch.

“Thanks, big guy.”

He looked at the time on his phone and almost fell off the couch again. Derek barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

“Damn, I did not mean to fall asleep on you. Sorry about that.”

Derek shrugged. “It’s fine.” He got some reading done, which was rare with such a rambunctious pack.

Behind them, Erica sniggered.

Boyd sighed. “And that’s our cue. We’ll leave you two alone.” He dragged Erica with him up the stairs.

Stiles stumbled to his feet, limbs still sleep-heavy “I’ve got to get home and make dinner for my dad.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Derek tried not to sound hopeful.

Stiles smiled that soft smile again. “Absolutely.” He brushed a hand down Derek’s arm and pressed a kiss to his cheek before heading out the door.

Derek stood in shock, skin tingling. What the hell did that even mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next time for ring shopping and curly fries!


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles woke up to his phone vibrating across his nightstand. He unplugged it from the charger and stared in horror at the 37 new text messages. All from Scott. The latest few made him groan and want to bury his head under his pillow.

 

 _7:20am_ **Scotty McCall:** _WAKE UP!!!!!!!_

 _7:21am_ **Scotty McCall:** _i can’t believe u didn’t tell me bro_

 _7:21am_ **Scotty McCall:** _u tell me everything_

 _7:22am_ **Scotty McCall:** _seriously_

 _7:22am_ **Scotty McCall:** _not cool_

 

With all of the commotion, Stiles might have forgotten to tell his best bud that he was engaged to a certain growly Alpha werewolf. He picked up the phone and hit call.

It only rang once before Scott answered. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Scott, I’m so sorry…”

He steamrolled right over Stiles’ attempted apology. “Do you know how I found out? My mom told me. And she heard from one of the other nurses who heard from Mrs. Davis who saw you and Derek at the supermarket.”

“I’m so sorry, man. It all happened so fast.”

“Stiles, just _tell_ me these things.”

“Sure, buddy.” Stiles sat up, swinging his legs out of bed. “C’mon over. I’ll make you pancakes.”

“Don’t think the pancakes are going to make me forget how mad I am.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Scotty. Massive amounts of groveling happening over here.”

Scott snorted in disbelief. “Whatever, man. See you in ten.”

In the kitchen, Stiles unearthed the chocolate chips from where he had hidden them from his dad’s late-night candy raids. He knew he was playing dirty; Scott couldn’t resist chocolate chip pancakes.

Just as Stiles was pouring the last of the pancake batter onto the griddle, he heard the rumble of Scott’s bike in the driveway. It was a good thing his dad was already at work, otherwise all of the noise would have robbed him of his precious sleep. Judging by the beastiary notes spread across the dining room table, he was up late again. The front door slammed open and Stiles filed his suspicions away for later.

“I smell chocolate chips.”

Stiles flipped the last few pancakes onto the stack. “Told you I was groveling.”

“Let me kick your ass a few times, and then we’ll see.” Scott’s voice was muffled by the pancake already shoved in his mouth.

They settled on the couch with their plates and controllers for a few solid hours of bro-time before Scott had to go to the clinic. It’d been awhile since they did something that wasn’t pack related. Stiles hadn’t realize how much he missed hanging out with Scott.

It seemed like hardly any time passed before the alarm on Stiles’ phone went off, reminding Scott that he had fifteen minutes to get across town. They gathered up their dirty dishes and Scott pulled on his shoes, pausing in the front hallway.

“So you and Derek, huh?”

Stiles had hoped that pancakes and videogames meant that Scott would let him out of the whole talking part. But apparently he wasn’t that lucky.

“Yeah, there was a bit of a paperwork mix-up so we’re going to be engaged until they get that sorted out.” Stiles decided not to tell him about the trickster hunch. It was only a gut feeling anyway.

He hummed, sounding pleased and Stiles felt like he had to defend himself. “He’s the Alpha, who knows how you pups would react if he left the country?”

But Scott just smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey man, I think it’s a good thing.”

“How is this a good thing?”

“Maybe it’s fate.”

“Fate? There’s no such thing as fate.”

Scott shrugged. “Yeah, and there’s no such thing as werewolves.”

Stiles sputtered, mouth moving but brain not forming words. Scott ignored him and scooped up his helmet from the stairs. “I’m not pressuring you or anything bro, but this is kind of the perfect opportunity to tell him how you feel.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon Stiles. Just tell him you’re in love with him.”

“And have him rip my throat out?”

“Derek isn’t a bad guy, Stiles. You know that.” And that was definitely not a phrase Stiles ever expected to hear from his best friend.

The mood was shattered by the obnoxious howl he set as Derek’s text alert. Too bad Derek was never around when his messages were received because Stiles could already imagine his constipated expression.

_11:53am_ **Sourwolf:** _how do you feel about ring shopping?_

 

He tapped out an affirmative and looked up to find Scott smirking at him with a little too much understanding. “I think he’ll surprise you, bro.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Stiles shoved his phone into his pocket. “Go to work.”

The Camaro was in the driveway before the sound of Scott’s bike had faded. Derek rolled down the window.

“Let’s go.”

Stiles glanced down at his jeans and lacrosse t-shirt. It wasn’t like Derek seemed to care, so he shrugged and slid into the car. But the second they pulled up outside of _Opes_ , he knew he should have changed.

“Are you serious? We’re going to the fanciest place in town?” Even though they were actually two towns over, but semantics.

“That does tend to be how people get their wedding rings.”

“Rich people,” Stiles protested.

Derek rolled his eyes and got out of the driver’s seat. “Only the best for my betrothed.”

“Did you just say betrothed?” Stiles stumbled out of the car after him. “Who the fuck says betrothed anymore?”

But Derek was already holding the door for him, a smirk on his face. Stiles tried to glare, but got distracted by how shiny everything was.

“Did you know that _opes_ is the nominative plural form of the Latin word _ops_? It means wealth or power or something.” Stiles almost missed Derek’s tiny smile because he was staring at a watch that looked like it was totally encrusted in diamonds. “It’s probably where the word opulent came from, which is totally fitting because look at this.”

He gestured at the watch, but Derek didn’t look away from regarding him with a fond expression. It was kind of making Stiles freak out a bit. Lucky for him, they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“Is there anything I can help you with today, gentlemen?”

Derek jerked away from where he was leaning into Stiles and turned a charming smile to the lady behind the counter. Stiles couldn’t understand how people fell for such a fake expression, but it never failed.

“Yes. We’re looking for engagement rings.”

She looked between the two of them. “For the both of you?”

Stiles stepped away from the case with the watch to stand beside Derek, sliding a hand up his very toned back to grab his shoulder. “For both of us.” He confirmed.

The lady sized them up for a moment before bringing out several trays. Stiles was drawn to the shiny rings, inlayed with faceted gemstones that caught the light. Derek, unsurprisingly, gravitated to the only black band in the entire selection. He picked it up, watching how the surface glimmered like oil on water.

“So, how did you two meet?” The jewelry lady sounded sickly sweet. To be fair, she probably had to ask the question a million times a day and hear people gush over their sappy stories.

Stiles settled a hand over Derek’s, thumb stroking up and down, knowing that his thoughts had turned to Laura. To his surprise, Derek flipped his hand over and laced their fingers together.

“Two years ago, Der-bear came back to town and told me off for trespassing on his property.”

“Not quite love at first sight.”

Stiles tried not to wince at the l-word. “Yeah. It took us months to become friends, but we’ve been super close ever since.”

“And your parents are okay with this?” She sounded skeptical.

Her tone immediately put him on edge. Derek freed his hand and wrapped his arm around Stiles’ waist, tugging him closer. Stiles relaxed against him and shrugged. “I graduated high school, I’m attending Berkley in the fall. Dad and Derek get along great. Getting married isn’t going to mess up my future.”

She didn’t seem phased by his outburst. “I was thinking more of the age difference.”

Derek tightened his arm and Stiles fumed. “For the last time. I am almost twenty. I can make my own choices. Derek is twenty-three. Three and a half years is hardly cradle robbing.”

The lady looked abashed. “I am sorry for assuming, sir…”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t any of your business.”

“Calm down.” Derek’s words were warm against his ear. “We can go somewhere else.”

Stiles pasted on a fake smile. “It was nice meeting you. Please learn to keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Stiles.” Derek sighed, holding the door for him on the way out.

 

\---

Derek waited until the door to _Opes_ closed. “Want to talk about it?”

“No!” Stiles stalked down the street, then stopped. “Just – you were barely okay with this in the first place and I really don’t like it when people make you feel bad.”

“Stiles, I’m a grown man. And an alpha werewolf. You don’t have to fight all of my battles for me.”

“But you don’t have to do everything alone either, Der.”

Derek wasn’t really sure what to say to that. “Lunch?”

Stiles’ stomach let out a growl. “It’s like you read my mind.”

They decided on the diner a few blocks away. Or maybe Derek was weak and couldn’t resist Stiles’ face when he said it was his favorite. As soon as they were seated, a waitress handed them menus and pulled out her paper and pen.

“You want your regular hon?”

Stiles nodded, handing over his unopened menu. “Thanks, Martha.”

“And you?”

“Grilled chicken salad, please.”

Stiles snorted. “Seriously? You come to a place with the world’s best curly fries and you order a salad?”

“I could always steal some of yours.”

“Over my dead body.”

Derek flashed his eyes Alpha red and Stiles laughed.

“Sure, big bad wolf. Enjoy your lettuce.”

“And what’s your regular?” Derek was still trying to figure out how often you had to visit a place for them to know your order. “Double bacon cheeseburger with extra curly fries?”

“And a chocolate shake.”

“How are you still alive?” If monsters hadn’t killed him yet, all that grease should have.

Stiles patted his flat stomach. “I’m still a teenager. Gotta take advantage of that fast metabolism while I can.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of the milkshake and waters.

Stiles gnawed on his straw while drinking his shake. Derek tried not to watch, instead entertaining himself by reading the advertisements on the placemat. One was for a demolition and construction company. He pulled out his phone to type in the number.

When he looked up, Stiles was watching him. Derek dropped his eyes back down to the placemat. “I’m thinking of building a house.”

Stiles reached across the table and grabbed the hand that was worrying the edge of the placemat. “That’s awesome, Derek.” He sounded sincere.

Even after their food came, Derek could still sense the ghost of Stiles’ hand on his. He rolled his eyes as Stiles argued in defense of his heart attack on a plate, almost knocking over his milkshake with his enthusiastic gestures. The familiar back-and-forth made him feel settled in a way he hadn’t in years.

After lunch, they walked down the strip of stores and happened upon some mom and pop jewelry place. Derek wasn’t that familiar with places out of town but there wasn’t even a name on the sign above the door. Just jewelry cases on display in the window.

Inside, there were no glaring spotlights and the cases were made of solid wood instead of flashy chrome. The effect wasn’t as dazzling as _Opes_ , but Stiles still seemed to be drawn to one of the displays.

“Der, look at these.”

Derek hooked his chin over Stiles’ shoulder to see, slipping an arm around his waist.

The bands looked normal, but Derek could feel the magic woven through the metal. It felt like protection, but more than that, it felt _right_.

“Yeah,” He murmured, breath ghosting against Stiles’ throat, his pulse jumping under Derek’s hand.

“Would you like me to get them out for you?”

Stiles nearly leapt out of his skin. Derek wasn’t ruffled; he heard her heartbeat long before she entered the room. He ran a soothing hand down Stiles’ side and said, “Yes, please.”

As soon as the rings were on the table, Stiles seemed to know which one was his. He picked it up and went to try it on when Derek cleared his throat “Here, let me.” He untangled his arms from Stiles and slid the ring onto his finger.

Stiles swallowed thickly, throat clicking. “It fits.”

Derek hummed, forcing himself to remember that the situation wasn’t real. They were going along with a ridiculous plan in order to catch their monster of the week.

The woman watched the exchange with a thoughtful expression. “Derek Hale?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Your mother, Talia, picked out her ring here.”

The reminder of his parents made Derek’s breath catch. He leaned his head against Stiles’ neck and let the familiar scent soothe the sudden, gut-wrenching realization that if he ever did get engaged, it would be without his family to support him.  

“Hey, Sourwolf.” Stiles’ voice was gentle. “Let’s get your ring picked out.”

Reluctantly, Derek focused back on the task at hand. He waited for a ring to call to him the way Stiles’ seemed to, but felt nothing. Instead, Stiles paused over one with his long fingers. It wasn’t black, but rather liquid silver. He liberated it from the tray and removed Derek’s hand from his hip so he could slide the ring in place. It fit like it was made for him.

“Now which of you asked first?” the woman behind the counter asked.

Derek nudged Stiles gently, unable to help the smile on his face, and answered, “He proposed in the front hallway. Spur of the moment. Didn’t have a ring or anything.”

The woman smiled. “That is real love, right there. You don’t need a whole production; you just need each other.”

Derek’s eyes flicked down toward Stiles’ mouth, overwhelmed by the desire to kiss him. Stiles grinned mischievously and tugged him forward, hand wrapped around the back of his neck. Their lips met, soft and chaste, which was good because, for a moment, Derek might’ve forgotten they were still in public.

Derek couldn’t tear his eyes from him, even after he stepped away and tucked himself back in front of Derek, looking at the remaining rings in the tray.

“You boys are going to last.” The woman said and Stiles met his gaze with a hesitant smile.

Derek pulled his worn wallet out of his pocket, sliding loose his new credit card. “We’ll take them.”

Stiles protested. “C’mon, at least let me pay for half.”

Derek brushed him off. “You can help pay for the wedding.” He thought about it and added, “Maybe I’ll make you pay for the catering.” Feeding werewolves was ridiculous.

Stiles cottoned onto his train of thought and laughed, loud and bright. “Fair enough. Our friends do tend to eat a lot.”

After bidding the woman farewell, they walked out of the store together. Derek liked the weight of the ring on his finger, but he liked the feeling of Stiles’ hand in his even more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure what happened with this but it definitely got away from me. Hopefully I'll get two chapters up by next Tuesday but the whole packing/moving thing sucks so I'm not making any promises :)


	4. Chapter 4

Somehow, May turned into June and the long summer days slid by faster than Stiles could keep track. Each day that passed was one day closer to his inevitable departure. As much as he was looking forward to the whole college experience, Stiles didn't want to lose whatever it was that he had with Derek. They were almost a month into their weird fiancé limbo and Stiles would sometimes forget that they were pretending.

In that time, they only encountered Agent Weston once more. They were out eating dinner at the fancy Italian restaurant just outside of Beacon Hills. It was one of the times Stiles forgot that they weren’t actually on a real date, but rather abandoned by the rest of the pack. Unsurprisingly, they were bickering over the necessity of salting restaurant food when the man materialized out of nowhere. Even Derek looked surprised, which was concerning. If whatever creature Agent Weston turned out to be could sneak up on an Alpha werewolf, it was probably bad news.

The ‘agent’ harassed them a bit before Stiles pointed out their rings. The news had him leaving in a hurry, but the encounter still managed to ruin the mood. Because they had moods now. Stiles had been on dates that were less date-like than hanging out with Derek. In a way, he felt like they were doing everything all out of order. The ring on his finger felt like a safety net and he didn't know if he’d be able to give it up when the charade was over. As messed up as it probably was, he kind of wanted to stay fake engaged to Derek for the rest of his life.

So the weeks continued to pass and Derek and Stiles continued to spend almost every waking moment with each other. It got to the point where Scott would text Derek whenever Stiles didn’t answer his phone and his dad just assumed that he was at the apartment before he even checked the house.

Stiles slammed through the front door after another day of hanging out with the pack. It had been awhile since he’d stopped at home and his laundry was starting to pile up. He stuck his head into the kitchen to say hello to his dad and ask about his schedule. There were files and sheets of paper spread across the kitchen table. Stiles froze when he saw the blood and viscera captured in the pictures.

“What happened?” There was no way something that horrific wasn’t connected to the supernatural.

“It looks like our trickster has escalated his game.”

“So it’s not just mysterious happenings, disappearances, unexplainable occurrences anymore?”

His dad sighed, flipping over the worst of the photos so he didn’t have to see.

“Some hikers came across a body cache.”

Stiles shuddered. He still wasn’t great with the whole blood and guts aspect of their lives. Really, it was best if everyone’s insides stayed, well, inside.

“Two of the victims had already filed reports. One woke up in the Preserve with no idea how he got there and the other reported having all of her shoes stolen.”

“And the third?” Stiles tapped the back of the face-down picture.

“Parrish said the body smelled like an omega.”

“Shit,” Stiles breathed. Taking down a werewolf, even an omega, took serious strength and skill.

His dad scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah.”

Stiles dragged his binders of notes out of his room and flipped open his laptop. The digital beastiary was convenient for narrowing searches, but right now they didn’t have a lot to go off of. Strong and blood thirsty brought the results down to about four hundred hits.

He resigned himself to skimming all of the entries. Stiles suspected everything was connected to the trickster, but that didn't mean anything at all. Their so-called 'trickster' could be fae or a wendigo or a skinwalker or some sort of demon. Unfortunately, none of the entries in the beastiary sounded right. Plus nothing added up. Why go from harmless pranks to murder? He stayed at the table with his dad until the sheriff set aside the manila folder where he was comparing bite patterns.

"I've got the night shift today, kid."

Stiles took a moment to finish underlining a paragraph on how to kill a wendigo before nodding. "Stay safe."

"Will you be okay here on your own tonight?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'll be fine."

The Sheriff sighed, his age showing for a moment. "Call me if anything happens."

"10-4."

Once the cruiser pulled out, Stiles was left with crushing silence and too many pictures of dead bodies. He looked again at the guy who'd been cursed with sleepwalking and the woman with the stolen shoes. Who knew what kind of inconvenience befell the werewolf before their untimely demise.

Stiles dropped his laptop lid and got up to pace the kitchen. Judging by his dad's timeline, Derek was one of the first targets for the trickster. After that realization, Stiles knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep until he had physical confirmation that Derek was safe. He sent a quick text to his dad and grabbed his pillow.

The drive to the apartment seemed stretch forever. Stiles tried to keep calm, which turned out to be impossible with the images from the case files seared in his memory. It was almost dark when Derek answered the door.

“Stiles? What are you doing here?”

“What?” Stiles tried to sound offended, but all he felt was relief. “Does a guy need an excuse to visit his fiancé?”

He could feel Derek’s eyebrows judging him and sighed.

“My dad was working tonight and I didn’t want to be alone.”

Derek cocked his head, looking confused. “That was a lie.”

Stiles huffed. “Okay fine. I’m here because three bodies turned up in the woods.”

“So you need help?”

“No, asshole.” Stiles pushed his way through the door. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Stiles, I’m a werewolf.”

“Yeah, so was one of the victims. The poor omega looks like a chew toy now.”

Derek blinked in surprise. “What did your dad say?”

“He thinks they’re related. Two of the victims filed weird reports.”

“Trickster?”

“We can’t keep calling it that. I looked through _so many_ articles and I can’t find a match.” He viscously rubbed at his temples. “There has to be something.”

Derek smoothed a hand over the back of his neck and Stiles went weak at the knees, the headache and tension in his back bleeding away. He groaned unintelligently, letting Derek steer him toward the living room.

“Maybe we should call it a night.”

“Where’s everybody at?” Stiles collapsed into the welcome couch cushions.

“Cora, Erica, and Allison are having girls night and Boyd went to visit his family.”

“You can feel ‘em?”

“Yes, Stiles. They’re all content right now.”

Derek settled next to him, moving so Stiles could tuck his legs up and lean against him. It was their normal movie watching position and Stiles loved it way more than he should. Partly because the air-conditioning in the apartment was set to accommodate werewolf body temperatures instead of human ones, but also because the closeness relaxed Derek in a way Stiles had never seen anything else do.

He didn’t recognize whatever was playing on the screen, just sank further into Derek’s side and closed his eyes. Only for a minute. Then he’d pull out his laptop and keep looking for answers.

It was dark in the loft the next time he came to. Someone was tucking a blanket more securely around his shoulders. It might have been a dream but he swore they pressed a kiss to his forehead before heading up toward the bedrooms.

\---

The sound of ringing pulled Derek from his restless sleep. It took him a moment to realize it was Stiles’ phone, sitting on the coffee table downstairs. He rolled out of bed and stared as the red letters on his alarm clock flicked to 5:56.

That was enough to chase the residual grogginess from his head. No one would call before six unless it was an emergency. The ringing stopped, leaving an echoing silence in the apartment. Then Derek’s phone started vibrating.

He snatched the device off of his bedside table. “Sheriff.”

“Hale. Is my son with you?”

Derek bypassed the stairs and landed with a thud in the downstairs hall. He could hear Stiles’ heartbeat, but waited until he saw him stretched out on the couch before answering, “Yes, sir.”

The sheriff breathed a sigh of relief. “Did Scott come by last night?”

Dread had his stomach dropping to his feet. “No, sir.”

“Damn.” The buzz of voices in the background signaled that he was probably still at the station, then a door clicked shut and cut off the noise. He must have moved to his office. “Melissa called. He didn’t come home from the clinic last night and someone just found his bike abandoned by the side of the road.”

Derek immediately felt guilty. While he kept track of his own betas with the pack bonds, he’d never been able to get a grasp on Scott. The stubborn kid didn’t really want to become a part of the pack and Derek respected his wishes.

A sleepy voice shook him out of his spiral. “Der? What’s goin’ on?”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and turned to face Stiles, who was blinking at him from the couch. “Hey…” He paused, unsure how to proceed.

Stiles grabbed at his own phone on the coffee table. After seeing the time and the missed call, he was on his feet and struggling out of the blanket. “Give me the phone.”

Derek handed it over without arguing. “Dad?”

He listened as the Sheriff filled Stiles in on what he’d already relayed to Derek. All the while Stiles paced, hand tangled in his hair.

Eventually, he passed the phone back to Derek. As Stiles gathered up his backpack and keys, Derek called the girls. Erica picked up. “This better be important.” She grumbled.

“Scott’s missing and there were bodies in the woods. One of them was a werewolf.”

All of a sudden, he could hear three heartbeats gathered around the phone. Cora spoke first. “What do you need us to do?”

“Stick together. Whatever this is, it made hamburger out of an omega.”

“I’m calling Isaac and Boyd.” Allison said from a little way off.

“Good.” He looked over to where Stiles had his laptop balanced in one hand and was trying to pull a shoe on with the other. “Same goes for them. No one should be out alone.”

“And Stiles?” Erica asked.

“Is doing research. I’ll keep an eye on him and talk to the Sheriff.”

“Got it, boss man.”

“Erica,” he said before she could hang up.

“Yeah?”

Derek hesitated. “Just… Be careful. Please.”

“We will.” Her voice was soft, and he heard the other two girls echo the sentiment.

The line clicked off and Derek took a deep breath. They could handle themselves. He knew that. Behind him, Stiles started muttering about binders and notes.

“Derek, have you seen my keys?” he called, barely glancing up from his computer screen.

“They’re in your pocket.”

Stiles pulled them out and stared. “How’d that happen?”

“That’s it.” Derek took the Jeep’s keys and set them on the table.

Stiles made a distracted noise.

“I’m driving.” The other man didn’t even protest, which definitely meant he was in no state to get himself home.

Somehow, Stiles managed not to freak out all the way to his house. When Derek stepped into the kitchen there were files spread across the table, like Stiles and the Sheriff had left them out last night. Derek flinched at the photos. One was facedown, so he turned it over. His stomach heaved.

“That’s the omega.” Stiles didn’t even look up from where he was sorting out binders.

Derek flipped it back over, wishing he could unsee the image.

“I’m gonna call Deaton.”

Derek nodded, starting to read over a case file on a woman who reported that she was missing all of her shoes. He reached the part where some hikers discovered the bodies in the woods when Stiles stormed back into the room and flung his phone onto the table.

“Useless druids and their fucking balance.” He muttered and snapped open a binder full of notes written half in his loopy scrawl and half in Lydia’s precise handwriting.

Derek turned around and scavenged in the pantry for ingredients to make breakfast and coffee, letting Stiles work in peace. Once he had something thrown together, he set the plate in front of Stiles. He waited, then washed the dishes when it was empty. A few hours later, he made another pot of coffee when Stiles picked up his mug and stared at the bottom like he was wondering where the caffeine went.

By midafternoon, Stiles had exhausted the beastiary and every binder in the house. He then turned to the supernatural databases that Danny had somehow gotten them access to and started the search over. Derek resigned himself to setting another plate of food and a glass of water near the notebook he was using to scribble his ideas down in.

Stiles tugged at his hair, swearing under his breath. Even trying to use advanced keyword searches was getting him thousands of hits. It was too much information to sift through without knowing more and what little evidence they had collected on the victims and the trickster itself didn’t give him anything concrete to go off of. But he looked like he was bound and determined to read every last word.

It finally reached the point where Derek couldn’t take the smell of stress edged with desperation. The sun had set hours ago and it was probably too late to even be considered night anymore.

“Stiles, you need to sleep.” He set both hands on his hunched shoulders. Stiles was practically radiating stiffness.

He shrugged Derek off. “Not until I find it.”

“You’re no good to Scott like this, Mieczysław,” Derek murmured, voice gentle.

Stiles went limp in his chair. “Okay.”

Derek helped him to his feet, half carrying him up the stairs to his bed. He tucked the covers around Stiles' shoulders like he did the night before. It felt like such a long time had passed since they were sitting on the couch in his apartment, Stiles drifting off against his side.

This time though, a hand flopped after him and caught at his sleeve. “Stay.”

Derek froze.

“Please.” Stiles pleaded, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep unless I know where you are.”

“Okay.”

He stripped down to his boxers and climbed onto the mattress, trying to stay as far away from Stiles as he could. On the single bed, it was pretty much impossible.

Stiles sighed at the awkward tension. “Com’ere big guy.”

The following flurry of blankets and limbs ended with Stiles sprawled over his chest. Derek hated how perfect it was. “Stiles, what are we doing?” Because this was suddenly so much more than fake fiancés

He felt the drowsy mumble against his collar bone. “Dunno. Dating or something.” Stiles flailed a little, smacking him in the jaw with the back of his hand. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, man.”

He must have been exhausted because he slipped into an agitated sleep before Derek could ask what on earth he was talking about. So Derek stayed, staring into the darkness and trying to sort out his thoughts.

Once he got past the initial shock of Stiles’ sleepy revelation, it made sense. They spent so much time together that their scents had actually merged. If he really thought about it, they’d probably passed the dating stage and gone straight to the point of an old married couple. They grocery shopped, watched bad television, and constantly argued over what they were going to make for dinner.

Derek looked down at the head on his chest, ear resting over his heart. Dating wouldn’t change anything about their relationship. Maybe it really was what they were doing all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this is later than expected. Moving is hard. See you Tuesday!


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles woke up wrapped around his own personal werewolf heater. Who he might have boyfriend zoned last night. And Derek hadn’t argued. Stiles desperately wanted to talk to Scott, but Scott was still missing. So he scrolled through his contacts and hit call before he could overthink it.

“This better be important, Stiles.” Lydia sounded pissed, and he realized that he might have forgotten about the time difference. It was three in the afternoon in Switzerland so she was probably in the middle of something.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I forgot the time change.” He hung up the phone, letting it fall to the desk.

Lydia called back immediately. “Stiles, talk to me.”

“I got engaged to Derek.” Which was not what he wanted to start with, but whatever. “Like, not for real. Because of some trickster or something and now people are dying. And it has Scott.”

Lydia was silent for a moment and then demanded, “What the hell is going on there? Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“I didn’t want to disturb your internship. I know how important it is to you.”

Her voice softened, “Oh, Stiles. I always have time for you.”

He heard her tell someone she had to take the call, it was a family emergency. Whoever she was speaking to assented and she turned back to the phone. “I’m going to hang up now, but I’ll skype you in a minute, okay?”

When the call came through, she was sitting in someone’s office, books on particle physics all around. Some were in different languages. Nerd books aside, it was so good to actually see her. He hadn’t actually spoken to her since graduation and he’d missed her more than he thought he would.

Feeling overwhelmed, he started at the beginning and told her everything. She made a noise of surprise at Agent Weston’s appearance at the apartment.

“I never knew Derek was born in Canada.”

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t think any of us did.”

When he got to the mysterious disappearances that turned into deaths, she leaned in, focused.

“That’s all you have to go off of?”

“Unfortunately.”

“And Scott’s been missing since the night before last?”

Stiles could see her expression turn calculating, probably trying to figure out how far they could have gotten in thirty hours. Or maybe analyzing kidnapping statistics.

They bounced a few ideas back and forth, still not entirely sure what it could even be. Lydia finally gave up.

“We’re wasting time. It doesn’t matter what it is as long as you can kill it.”

“But we have to know what it is.”

“Not necessarily.” Lydia tapped her manicured fingernails against a book on theoretical astrophysics. “It sounds most like some sort of fae, so you’ll need iron or decapitation.”

“When in doubt decapitate.”

Lydia dipped her head in agreement. “And once this is sorted, you are going to tell me more about Derek.”

Stiles suddenly felt like a bug under a microscope. “What about him?”

“You’re engaged! How do you balance that with your ridiculous crush.”

“Lydia!” he hissed.

“What? It’s not like you’ve done anything about it.”

He shushed her, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the werewolf in question was still dead to the world.

Lydia lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Seriously, Stiles? He’s in your bed?”

Stiles grumbled petulantly, “Say anything and I will revoke your friend rights.” But she had a point. He didn’t really know what he was doing.

“Hey, everything is going to be okay. You’ll find Scott.”

Stiles nodded. Scott was the priority, then whatever the hell was happening with Derek.

“And Stiles?” Lydia’s voice went dangerously sharp.

Stiles barely refrained from gulping. “Yeah?”

“Call me the second you have more information. No more keeping me out of the loop.”

“Got it, Lyds. Love you.”

She smirked, tossing her hair back. “I know.”

The screen went dark. Stiles sat still for a moment, going through the list of things they would need. He had some iron stakes stashed under his bed and between Deaton and the Argents, they probably had an entire arsenal for fighting supernatural threats.

But first, he had to relay his findings to Derek. The werewolf was still passed out on Stiles’ bed, arms wrapped around the pillow Stiles had shoved at him in his absence. Stiles stared until he started to feel creeped out. Derek was already the creeper in their relationship.

He crawled onto the mattress, watching as Derek continued to breathe softly. It seemed cruel to wake him since Stiles had the feeling Derek didn’t get a lot of restful nights. He was contemplating the least invasive way to go about it when Derek’s eyelids fluttered.

“Good morning, sleepy-wolf,” Stiles whispered.

Derek smiled slowly, looking soft and muzzy. He stretched and burrowed into the blankets, closer to Stiles. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. Reaching out, he smoothed a hand over Derek’s mussed hair.

“We need to tell the pack what’s going on, Der.”

The alpha muttered a bit, then sat up, sheets pooling around his waist. Stiles almost choked on his tongue at the sight of so much bare skin.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” he called, escaping from the room.

Derek came down a few minutes later, actually taking the steps one at a time like a normal person. Stiles was relieved to see that he’d gotten dressed. Attempting to cover the residual awkwardness, he shoved a sandwich at Derek.

“Good, you’re ready. I called a pack meeting at your place.”

They were halfway out the door when Stiles remembered his conversation with Lydia. And the iron stakes in his back pocket.

“Oh! And we think it’s some sort of fae now.”

Derek hummed around a bite of sandwich. Hopping into the Jeep, Stiles filed away the fact that Derek Hale was not a morning person.

The apartment was already crowded by the time they arrived. Someone had brought doughnuts and the remains were scattered across the kitchen. Stiles took inventory of the people gathered; everyone but Scott. Deciding to lay it all out at once, he pulled the iron stakes out of his pocket and announced, “So, it turns out that the agent who wanted to deport Derek was actually something supernatural and now it has Scott. Oh and to kill it, you should either stab it with one of these stakes or take off its head.”

There was absolute silence for a moment before the room exploded.

“What the hell?” Erica exclaimed. “You’re just telling us now?”

Cora aimed a patented Hale glare his way. “So you figured this guy was a fake and still decided to go all _The Proposal_ on it?”

“I knew it!” Stiles crowed. “I knew you were lying when you said you hadn’t watched TV since you were a kid.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Shut up Stilinski. Maybe I like spending time with my future brother-in-law.”

Undeterred, Stiles clapped her on the shoulder. “It’s ok, dude. You can totally admit we’re friends now.”

It took an Alpha roar to get them all settled down again. Once the pack was under control, Derek took charge. “Split up. Allison and Erica, Jackson and Cora, Isaac and Boyd. Chris is backup and the Sheriff will meet us there.”

Chris and Allison produced a set of iron knives to add to the stakes and the pack fanned out through the preserve. Stiles and Derek started their search at the Nemeton, since most creepy things that were drawn to Beacon Hills ended up at the foot of the ancient tree.

Surprisingly, there was nothing to indicate that the thing felt a pull to the tree at all. Derek took his time scenting the air and listening, but it was clear they wouldn’t find anything.

Stiles felt his phone buzz and checked the caller id. “Talk to me, Boyd.”

“We think we found them. Out at the ranger’s station.”

“On our way.” Derek said, already heading in the direction of the only ranger outpost in the Preserve.

They heard the fight long before they saw anything. A familiar howl had Stiles almost collapsing in relief. Scott was still alive and kicking. Literally from the sounds of it.

He was ready to burst into the clearing when Derek caught his arm.

“Wait.”

“C’mon, Der.” Stiles tugged him toward the fight. “We don’t have time for this.”

Derek huffed, pulling him in for a kiss that was all tongue and teeth and desperation. Then he stepped back, leaving Stiles feeling weak at the knees. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Seriously?” Stiles shook his head at the line and followed his Alpha into the fray.

It took all of five minutes for everything to go to shit. Apparently the thing could shift into an enormous rage monster that would put even Bruce Banner to shame. And for some reason, the thing decided to target Derek.

After one vicious swipe left the werewolf on the ground, Stiles took matters into his own hands. He scooped up a rock and hurled it with all the strength and skill of a second-string lacrosse player.

“Hey, Butt Face!” The rock bounced off its ugly head.

The creature turned toward the sound of his voice, Derek’s blood still dripping from its claws. Stiles started scrambling backward. Shit. At least the thing’s attention was on him.

\---

 

Derek watched everything happen in slow motion. One second, Stiles was threatening the thing and the next he was flying backwards through the windshield of the ranger’s truck. In a rage, the creature sent the truck rolling down steep bank of the road.

Scott was on the thing instantly, somehow bringing it down for the rest of the pack to finish off. Derek didn’t bother to check if it was actually dead, instead scrambling down after the truck. Gently, he maneuvered Stiles out of the twisted metal.

Brown eyes blinked open, filling him with relief. “Did we get it?”

“Yeah, Stiles. We got it.”

“Ev’rything’s gonna be fine.” Stiles patted Derek’s face reassuringly, like he wasn’t the one bleeding out.

Derek held him closer, veins running black. They were almost to the road when Stiles’ eyes started to droop.

“Stiles? Stay awake.”

Stiles’ voice was so quiet, Derek almost didn’t catch his next words. “Love you, Der.”

By some stroke of luck, a car was speeding up the road. Derek would know that engine anywhere. He staggered toward the vehicle, causing the driver to brake hard and fast.

The Sheriff practically leapt out of the cruiser. “What the hell?”

“We need to go.” Derek was fighting to keep his control and he wasn’t the only one. The Sheriff seemed to be warring between being a cop and being a dad.

“Is the thing taken care of?”

“Yes. But Stiles needs a hospital.”

It didn’t take long for Derek to crawl into the backseat, Stiles cradled against him. Then they were off, sirens blaring and lights flashing. The Sheriff kept up a constant stream of chatter over the dispatch radio, probably alerting the hospital they were coming.

Melissa was waiting with a gurney when they arrived. She took in the sight of Stiles, unconscious in Derek’s arms, the both of them covered in blood. “What happened?”

“Car accident.” Derek said tersely, tightening his hold on Stiles.

“The car rolled off the road in the Preserve.” The Sheriff held Melissa’s eyes. “Everyone else is fine.”

Melissa closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. And Derek might have forgotten this whole mess started with Scott getting kidnapped. Seconds later, someone was trying to take Stiles from him. He fought the instinct to snap at them, instead helping to settle the younger man onto the gurney. It was a monumental struggle to let the nurses wheel Stiles away.

Derek stood in the entry way, staring after where Melissa and the Sheriff had disappeared with Stiles. This was his fault. If the trickster hadn’t come after him, Stiles never would have been in danger.

One of the hospital employees directed him to a waiting area to keep him from blocking the walkway. The other people nearby were shooting him terrified looks. It took him a while to realize it was probably because he still had pieces of intestine stuck to him. He worried that one of them might get security to come escort him out.

Instead, the rest of the pack trickled in. They were cleaned up and Boyd even handed him a bottle of water. He was a good second. Erica and Jackson brushed their hands over his shoulders before sitting down in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Cora hugged him, dragging her face across his collarbone even though he left flakes of dried blood on her clothes.

“Allison and Isaac are with Scott.” She murmured, too low to be overheard. “They called Melissa. She wanted to leave as soon as she heard, but Scott pretty much begged her to look after Stiles.”

“He’s okay?”

“Yeah. He said he was fine; the thing only kept him as bait.”

Derek felt himself relax a little. Maybe it was time to see if Scott would reconsider a place in their pack. If only for Derek’s piece of mind.

The Sheriff came out hours later to find Erica, Boyd, Jackson and Cora curled up in various stages of falling asleep. Derek was still wearing a path into the tile with his pacing.

“Go home, son. You look exhausted.”

“Sir?” Derek was almost afraid to ask.

“Stiles is going to be fine. Most of the bleeding was superficial.”

It didn’t sound like he was lying, but Derek knew that people sometimes bent the truth to make others worry less. His distress must have shown on face.

“Derek,” the Sheriff’s voice had taken on the soothing tone he used for informing next of kin. It wasn’t all that reassuring. “He’s sleeping right now. You can see him when he wakes up tomorrow.”

Derek nodded jerkily.

“That’s it, son. Go home and get some sleep.”

Cora unfolded from her chair, pausing to scent him again. The Sheriff let out a tired laugh.

“And take a shower too, you look like an extra from _The Walking Dead_.”

The five of them piled into a black SUV that smelled suspiciously like Argent’s.

When they reached the apartment, all of the mattresses were already set up in the living room. Scott, Allison, and Isaac blinked up from the center one, shifting so the four other betas could snuggle down with them. Chris was standing at the kitchen table, cleaning his gun. For some reason, having a hunter nearby was almost a comfort.

Derek hesitated at the puppy pile, focusing in on Scott’s scent and heartbeat. “How are you doing?”

“Better.” Scott blinked up at him sleepily. “How’s Stiles?”

“Sleeping.”

It was the only answer that didn’t feel like a lie, but Scott looked relieved. Derek trailed a hand over Scott’s head, surprised when the other wolf leaned into the touch. That was something to worry about after they’d all slept, so Derek left the betas to their rest.

He took the Sheriff’s advice and showered because the dried blood was itchy and made his clothes stiff. Most of it was his own from when the thing got the better of him. But some was Stiles’ blood and the scent was enough to send him into another spiral of distress.

To take his mind off of it, he went methodically around the house, checking all of the locks and Deaton’s wards. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. It was hard to believe that only last night, he fell asleep in Stiles’ bed and Stiles could have died today. Derek was still on edge. He wouldn’t believe he was okay until he laid eyes on him.

When he was sure the apartment was secure, Derek sat with Chris and the two kept watch as the rest of the pack slept. At about 5 am, Chris’ phone rang.

“Argent.”

Derek focused on the heartbeats of the betas, trying to give the hunter some privacy. Whatever it was, the conversation was short, with only a few words exchanged on his end.

After hanging up, Chris turned to Derek. “Did you get that?”

He shook his head.

“A couple of my contacts checked out the body before they took care of it. Apparently it was some kind of shape-shifting chaos spirit that had escaped during an archaeological dig.”

They lapsed into silence. Chris seemed to have run out of things to sharpen or clean. The call a couple of hours later had them both jerking awake in their seats.

“Derek. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

The crisp voice could only belong to one person. “Lydia.”

“I am at Beacon Hills Municipal Airport and I’d rather not call a cab.”

Derek rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll be there.”

Leaving Chris to watch over the sleeping pack, Derek climbed into the Camaro.  He had no idea how Lydia managed to get a flight from Switzerland to Beacon Hills, but supposed it had something to do with the way she managed to bend the wills of everyone around her. If he didn’t know better, he’d think there was something supernatural about it.

When he pulled up near the tiny airstrip, she was already waiting, looking impeccable with nothing but a purse slung over her arm and her lab coat rolled up on top.

She slid into the Camaro and said, “I haven’t heard anything since Allison fell asleep last night.”

“Argent got a call. The thing is dead and taken care of.”

Lydia hummed. “Did they figure out what it was?”

“Some sort of shifter.” He didn’t really care. The thing was dead.

“Damn. We thought for sure...” She trailed off. “How’s Stiles?”

Caught off guard, Derek blurted out the words that had been looping through his head all night, “He told me he loved me.”

“Well, of course he does,” Lydia said, like it was common knowledge.

Derek scoffed, making Lydia bristle.

“I just spent over twelve hours on a plane, don’t argue with me.”

When they arrived at the hospital, the pack was already in the waiting room.

“I am glad you’re here, son,” the Sheriff said. “Stiles just woke up and keeps asking about you. Something about how the last time he saw you, your guts weren’t all on the inside.”

Derek was out of the room before the Sheriff had even finished talking. Stiles was awake. He was so focused on seeing him, he almost plowed over one of the doctors in the hallway.

“Sorry.”

“It’s quite alright.” The man straightened his lab coat. “I’m guessing you are going to see Mr. Stilinski.”

Derek nodded.

“The Sheriff showed us pictures of the truck. Mr. Stilinski was incredibly lucky. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Derek rubbed his fingers over his band, wondering if the protective magic in the rings was to thank for that outcome. He couldn’t be sure, but it was definitely something that they should look into.

With that in mind, he stepped into the room, taking in the sight of Stiles almost completely covered in bandages and gauze. Even though his injuries should have been much worse, the broken glass still did a number on him.

“Hey there, Sourwolf. Don’t look so glum. Doc says I’ll be just fine.” Stiles’ words were still a little slurred with sleep.

Derek clenched and unclenched his fists. “I can’t do this anymore.”

The statement fully jolted Stiles awake, his heartbeat ratcheting up. “What.”

Derek stalked forward. Stiles opened his mouth, looking like he was about to launch into some sort of argument. Before he could start, Derek dropped to his knees next to the bed, taking his left hand, band still shiny on his finger.

“Stiles, marry me. Not because of some messed up paper work, or some stupid shifter, but because I care about you.”

Stiles stared at him with something like wonder on his face. “Absolutely, Der. Nothing would make me happier.”

It took a moment for the rest of the words to process, but by the time Derek was settled into the chair beside the bed, Stiles looked confused.

“Wait a shifter?” He frowned. “We totally thought it was fae.”

Derek laughed at that and pressed a kiss to the corner of Stiles’ mouth, avoiding the worst of his scrapes. Everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty guys, one more chapter to go! This one should definitely be up soon (I hope).
> 
> And if you noticed that this suddenly became part of a series, it has! There will be a tiny sequel (like 1-2K) posted right after the next chapter. It can be read as a stand-alone, which is why I’m separating the two.
> 
> Finally, thanks so much for sticking with me. We’re almost to that happy ending :D


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles was discharged from the hospital the next day. He had a fractured wrist, three cracked ribs, and multiple lacerations from the broken windshield. Several were deep enough to scar, but all things considered, the injuries weren’t that bad. He’d definitely had worse while going up against supernatural threats.

But the best part of the whole ordeal was definitely Derek’s dramatic proposal. It was something that Stiles couldn’t wait to tell their grandkids. And literally every other person up to that point. His evil plotting must have shown on his face, because Derek tilted his head looking wary.

“What are you doing?”

Stiles grinned innocently. “Nothing, babe. Just thinking about you.”

Derek’s face went soft at the admission. Somehow, Stiles always managed to forget he was basically a walking lie detector. But it was okay since he got kisses out of it.

The sound of someone clearing their throat reminded him that his dad was also present. Oops.

“Are you boys sure this is something that you want?” Sheriff looked hesitant. “Relationships that start out in life-threatening situations rarely last.”

Derek stepped away and Stiles jerked around, too fast for his ribs. “Woah, hold up. Do I need to remind you that you and Mom got married after knowing each other for three months? _Three months_.”

“And that probably wasn’t the smartest idea,” his dad acknowledged, “but we were lucky enough that it worked out.”

“I’ve known Derek for almost four years. We’ve been friends for three years and I’ve been in love with him for at least two.” Derek had that look on his face again, like he wanted to kiss him, but Stiles forged on. “Plus we’ve been engaged since the end of May. Which means that our engagement was almost as long as you dated Mom before you got married.”

His dad held up his hands “I’m just worried. About you both. You’ve been through more hardship than is fair for either of you.”

Stiles shrugged and said, “Maybe it’s time for something good, Dad.”

“Just treat each other right and you’ll have no complaints from me,” his dad sighed. “For the record, I think you’ll be good for each other.”

Derek was still looking at him with that soft expression, so Stiles leaned back into him and stole another kiss.

In the following weeks, Derek proved to be the best fiancé slash caregiver ever. He helped Stiles get dressed, helped change his bandages, and made sure he kept still at night so his cracked ribs would heal properly. He spent almost every minute that he wasn’t at work with Stiles and they were both surprised by how easy it was.

Because Derek had a job now. Actually, he had two. One at the library and one as an auxiliary police officer. Stiles wasn’t sure which one he loved more: Derek in a summer reading program t-shirt reading out loud to an army of little kids, or Derek in his cop uniform.

One night, they were lying in Stiles’ bed and Derek whispered, “I started demolition on the house today.”

“Yeah?” Stiles searched for his hand under the covers and linked their fingers together.

“I want to be a good alpha and provide for our pack, but more than that,” Derek rolled onto his side, facing Stiles, “I want to be a good partner and create a life that you want to share with me.”

At that admission, Stiles really had no choice but to plaster himself over top of Derek and kiss him breathless. His hands smoothed down the planes of his chest and along the ridges of his abs. Derek’s breath hitched when he reached the waistband of his boxers. When Derek made no move to stop him, Stiles eased the fabric down.

“This-- This is not taking it easy.” Derek ground out, and Stiles kissed him again. Slower this time.

“Shhh. I’ll be careful.”

He wrapped his hand around Derek and watched, entranced, as the werewolf writhed beneath his ministrations. Stiles couldn’t help but grin because he’d known he would be good at this. Derek was coming after only minutes with a choked off gasp. He went limp, eyes blown, until Stiles brought his hand up to his mouth to lick clean.

Then Derek pounced, eyes alpha red and attacked his lips, hard and bruising. He rolled them over gently, so Stiles didn’t even feel his ribs. He trailed kisses down his body until he could swallow Stiles down, his mouth a tight wet heat that left Stiles shaking and seeing stars.

The wedding took place in the middle of August. It was held outside, behind the mostly finished house. Everyone in the pack had their own rooms and they were really just missing the furniture. Stiles couldn’t wait to be done with college so he could move in and start his new life with his husband.

It was hot as balls, even in the shade, but the heat didn’t put a damper on anyone’s good mood. Lydia had planned everything out, grumbling the whole time about how six weeks wasn’t nearly enough time to plan a wedding.

The ceremony was short, but they did write their own vows. Stiles made sure to give Derek a hard time about his dramatic proposal, while Derek sulked and muttered _at least we had rings and weren’t in the front hallway_. Derek’s vows were sweet and sentimental enough that even Jackson teared up. The promises he made had Stiles pulling him in for a kiss before the minister even asked them to say ‘I do.’

They reused their engagement rings as their wedding bands, partly because they’d both grown attached to them. And also because Deaton confirmed that they did have protective spells worked into the metal. With their luck, they could use all the help they could get.

As it turned out, Stiles (and his dad) wound up paying for the food. So for their reception they had a cookout with burgers, corn on the cob, and all of the usual picnic fixings. There wasn’t any alcohol since most of the pack was underage and werewolves couldn’t get drunk anyway.

Scott did an awesome job as best man. He didn’t lose the rings and gave a toast with his can of Coke that made everyone laugh and cry in equal amounts. Stiles knew for a fact that he’d been writing it since sixth grade. But only because he had a speech ready and waiting too.

Cora was the maid of honor and looked absolutely stunning in her red dress. She and Derek shared the first dance, followed by Stiles and his dad. After, the Sheriff hugged Stiles hard enough to crack his ribs (again) and said, “Your mom would have loved him.”

As the afternoon progressed, Stiles managed to dance with every single one of their groomsmen and groomsmaids. Although Boyd and Jackson took some convincing. Stiles was slow dancing with Allison when Derek tapped her shoulder.

“Can I cut in?”

She smiled up at him and stepped back. “Of course, he’s all yours.”

 “Are you ready to send our guests on their way?” Derek slid his hands around the back of Stiles’ neck, pulling him closer so they could sway together.

Stiles placed his hands on Derek’s hips and grinned. Their honeymoon was a weekend in a cabin on the coast. It wasn’t very far away because Stiles started school in a week. But the two of them were already planning a fancy trip for their one year anniversary.

“Yeah, I’m definitely ready.” The song started to draw to a close and Stiles couldn’t resist. “I have another wedding present for you.”

Derek looked slightly alarmed by his eyebrow waggle.

“I went to the doctor yesterday and guess who got cleared for more strenuous activity!”

With a sigh, Derek dropped his head to Stiles’ shoulder, hiding his blush. Behind them, Stiles could hear his dad groan from where he was dancing with Melissa. Oops. He might’ve said that a little too loud.

But the flustered smile on Derek’s face was so worth it.

\---

Derek woke up to his phone buzzing. He rolled over and glanced at the clock. It was almost three in the afternoon. His phone was still in his pants pocket, lying where they were discarded behind the cabin’s front door. Looking at them had him remembering how they got there, as Stiles crowded him up against the door before dropping to his knees.

Clearly, he’d wanted to make up for everything they had missed out on while he was supposed to be ‘taking it easy.’ Which probably wasn’t as easy as it should have been. But it was hard to argue with someone when they had a hand down your pants and Derek wasn’t going to leave him hanging, so of course he had returned the favor. With a lot of enthusiasm.

He threw an arm back over his eyes, blocking out the blazing afternoon sun. The buzzing stopped. If it was important, they could leave a message. Because he wasn’t going to leave this bed unless the world was ending.

Stiles was still sound asleep beside him, stretched out on his stomach. It was strange to see him perfectly still. But he was probably exhausted. Although he was cleared for strenuous activity, fucking (having sex, making love, whatever) five times in about twenty hours was kind of a lot. Even for a werewolf.

Derek let himself get lulled back into sleep, surrounded by the scent of him and Stiles. The phone vibrated once. So whoever it was did leave a message. A slight feeling of panic settled over him. He knew that the pack could handle just about anything, but the knowledge didn’t stop him from worrying.

He rolled to his feet, surprised when he stumbled a bit. Five times was definitely a lot. He fished the phone out of his pocket, amazed that it wasn’t dead. There was one missed call and a voicemail, both from Cora. He immediately pressed play.

“I know you and your husband are probably busy right now.” He could hear the smirk in her voice. “But John had some good news and asked me to pass it on. He finally got ahold of someone who was able to confirm that all of your paperwork is in order and you weren’t ever in danger of being deported. Not that it’s an issue anymore because you’re married to a citizen.”

In the background, he heard Erica shout “Is that Derek? Tell him – ” There was the sound of a struggle and her voice became muffled.

Isaac, who was probably the one that has a hand over her mouth, yelled, “Nope. Not again. I do not want to think about it. There is not enough brain bleach in the world.”

Cora laughed, “Well, we’ll let you guys get back to it. I know Stiles was saying you have a lot of time to make up for.” There was the sound of a door closing behind her, like she’d gone into her room for some semblance of privacy.

When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, “Mom and Dad would be so proud of you, Der.”

He smiled, bittersweet, and felt his eyes tear up a bit.

“And try to have a good time. You and Stiles deserve this.” She huffed, sounding a little watery. “Sorry, this got way too emotional. Love you both. Bye.”

The sheets rustled behind him and Stiles’ heartbeat started to speed up.

“Der? Where’d you go?” His arm stretched out over the empty spot next to him.

Derek’s heart leapt at the sight. He had this now. Forever.

Stiles’ eyes finally located him, still standing with his phone by the door. He smiled, slow and lazy. “Come back. It’s cold.”

And how could he refuse, when Stiles was looking at him all warm and open and inviting. He crawled in beside his husband, letting Stiles flop over him like a heavy blanket.

“Everything good?” He nodded at the phone Derek had abandoned on the nightstand.

Derek leaned up for a kiss. “Everything is perfect.”

 

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. This was my first ever long fic and my first attempt at smut, so thank you all so very much for sticking with me! 
> 
> The sequel is done, I'll have it up after one more read-through :D

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on [tumblr!](https://theproblemwithstardust.tumblr.com)


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